


Textual Sension

by HeyBoy, VexedBeverage



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Developing Relationship, Human Disaster Clint Barton, M/M, Modern Bucky Barnes, Phone Sex, Smut, Texting, Wrong number
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:21:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28433820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeyBoy/pseuds/HeyBoy, https://archiveofourown.org/users/VexedBeverage/pseuds/VexedBeverage
Summary: 'Bucky woke to the sound of his phone pinging with message after message. He lay for a few moments, confusion and exasperation washing over his tired mind. Who the fuck was hitting up his phone repeatedly at 5.40 AM on a Wednesday?'This is the one time that Clint was glad he had destroyed yet another phone.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton
Comments: 28
Kudos: 199
Collections: Marvel Reverse Big Bang 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This work is part of the Marvel Reverse Big Bang 2020.
> 
> I would like to say a huge thank you to my artist [HeyBoy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeyBoy/pseuds/HeyBoy) We spent a long ass time talking about all kinds of shit that made this story be what it is. It was an honour and a pleasure working with you <3
> 
> The original work can be found [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28430397) Please go have a look because it is so beautiful :D 
> 
> Also, huge thanks go to my two beta readers who managed to sort through my mess and help to make it the best that I could. [VeryRachael](https://archiveofourown.org/users/veryrachael/pseuds/veryrachael) and [Kabe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/oper_1895/pseuds/oper_1895) I am very grateful for your amazing help.

Bucky woke to the sound of his phone pinging with message after message. He lay for a few moments, confusion and exasperation washing over his tired mind. Who the fuck was hitting up his phone repeatedly at 5.40 AM on a Wednesday? 

He waited for a few minutes, burying his face in his pillow. His alarm wasn't due to go off for another twenty minutes and he just wanted to go back to sleep. Hump day sucked. 

His phone went off again, then again. 

With a muffled growl Bucky pushed himself up and crawled across the bed until he could snatch the still noisy phone from on his bedside cabinet. He retreated back to the centre of the bed, sat up against the headboard and held his phone in front of his tired eyes. 

Bucky frowned at the number of text notifications before pulling up the app properly. Whoever it was had sent him dozens of messages in the last hour or so and didn't appear to be stopping any time soon. 

_From unknown number: _

_I hate toilets_

_So much_

_Fucking smug assholes_

_Oh come on! Don't ignore me_

It was obviously a wrong number, though the lack of response apparently wasn't unexpected from whoever was texting. He carried on reading. 

_From unknown number: _

_Okay, fine. You told me so. You knew this trip was going to be a disaster and you told me so, I get it. Now stop with the silent treatment_

_Come ooooonnn! I'm bored!_

_I did it again_

_Phone met toilet and broke and all I could get my hands on was some shit brick throwback to the 90s, it doesn't even have snake!_

_I can't even get the internet on this thing_

_Entertain me!_

_I'm stuck here for another fucking week, pls halp_

_You are the worst and I hate you_

_Is this because of the jello thing? I apologized for that already, you can't keep holding it against me._

Bucky noted the time stamps on the messages, there had been ten whole minutes between the previous and the next. 

_From unknown number: _

_I'm sorry about the jello_

_It wasn't meant for you, you know that_

_You realise that I'm just going to keep messaging until you reply right?_

_I legit have nothing better to do than be the bane of your existence_

_Not that that is any different to how our friendship usually works, but y'know_

_Okay, fine._

_So if the bear in the big blue house and big bird got into a fight who do you think would win?_

_Personally I'm not sure but I think that the bear would die either way_

_Cause big bird was banging the mammoth right? She'd totally go all revenge killer on bears ass if he managed to kill her boy_

_Okay, new game. Fuck, marry or kill Michelangelo, Donatello or Raphael_

_And don't you try and be a smartass you know I'm talking about the turtles_

_Nothing? I guess it is a hard decision_

_They all share my love of pizza, it's a hard choice_

_Raph is all angry and broody though so he would probs be a beast in the sack_

_Well fuck, I don't want to kill any of them. Donny got me with the purple and would probs be totes on board with that being our wedding colors, but I can't kill mikey._

_Now I’ve made myself sad_

_Ffs nat, please! I am literally going fucking bat shit crazy here!_

Bucky smirked at the phone as he hit send on his reply.

**From Bucky:** ****

**Not Nat**

Bucky waited a second or two before typing a second message.

**From Bucky:** ****

**Also, the fact that you excluded Leo is a travesty which makes you undeserving of any turtle dick**

_From unknown number: _

_Oh please! Everyone knows Leonardo was the boring turtle, Splinter was more fun than him_

**From Bucky:** ****

**Now I’ve definitely lost all sympathy for your predicament, I wouldn't even wish Candy Crush on you right now, it's too good for you**

_From unknown number: _

_Hey now! That's just mean_

**From Bucky:** ****

**Thought you liked it rough?**

_From unknown number: _

_You never heard of foreplay? What sort of boy do you think I am?!_

**From Bucky:** ****

**Honestly i have no idea past your hatred of bathroom fixtures, apparent love of the color purple and preoccupation with the sex lives of anthropomorphic creatures**

_From unknown number: _

_You forgot my sordid love affair with pizza_

**From Bucky:** ****

**Sordid? What do you do, fuck it?**

**I don't think I'll ever be able to eat pizza again**

_From unknown number: _

_They call it stuffed crust for a reason_

**From Bucky:** ****

**And with that visual I'm going to work now. Please refrain from texting me anything disturbing for the next eight hours.**

Bucky kept the phone in his hand as he swung his bag over his shoulder and hurried out of his apartment. He thundered down the stairs and fell into a light jog towards the subway. All the texting had made him later than usual and he didn't want to miss his train. 

Once Bucky was safely on board and leaning against the wall as the train started moving he checked his phone again. His mystery number hadn't texted back. 

**From Bucky:** ****

**I'm saving your contact as pizza fucker, just fyi**

The phone pinged and vibrated in his hand almost immediately. 

_ From Pizza Fucker: _

_And what should I save you as? 'Not nat' seems a bit boring._

**From Bucky:** ****

**My name is Bucky**

_ From Pizza Fucker: _

_I'm Clint_

**From Bucky:** ****

**No you're not. You're pizza fucker, says so right on my phone. I'm not changing it.**

_ From Pizza Fucker: _

_W O W_

_Whatever you say, have fun at work Fucky ;)_

Bucky smirked down at his phone for a second before shoving it back into his pocket so he could push his way to the doors of the car and have a chance in hell of actually getting to work on time. 

**********

**From Bucky:** ****

**I hate people**

Bucky wasn't sure why he was texting Clint other than the fact that it was someone to complain to after a fucking horrible day. 

_From Clint:_ __

_Well, aren’t you just a ray of fucking sunshine! Not that I disagree, but who pissed in your coffee?_

**From Bucky:** ****

**Okay 1, that is not the expression and 2, everyone. Work sucked and people are assholes and I hate everything**

_From Clint:_ __

_Mood. I have shit all to do so, you want to talk about it?_

**From Bucky:** ****

**Nah, it's just asshole customers being dicks. Never work in the service industry, honestly I'm starting to think that I can survive without heat or food if it means I don't have to go back to work on Saturday.**

_From Clint:_ __

_You should look into something else if you hate it that much._

**From Bucky:** ****

**It's just part time and only until school starts up again in September**

_From Clint:_ __

_Omg, how old are you? Please tell me I haven't been talking about getting dicked down by cartoon characters to a minor_

**From Bucky:** ****

**Ha, no. By school I mean grad school, PHD.**

_From Clint:_ __

_Ooh smart and funny huh? There's gotta be a downside, you a sociopath or have like a tail or something?_

**From Bucky:** ****

**Tall dark and handsome - total hipster and not ashamed of it. I even have a vinyl collection**

_From Clint:_ __

_Ahh! There it is. You're a pretentious douche, got it_

**From Bucky:** ****

**Coming from the clumsy-asshole-pizza fucker, it doesn't sting as much as you wanted it to**

_From Clint:_ __

_Did I give you the impression that it wasn't a compliment?_

Bucky barks a laugh into the silence of his apartment. This guy, whoever the fuck he was had no business being so charming when he was obviously a walking disaster. 

_From Clint:_ __

_The real question is if ‘clumsy asshole who may have once (just once, when so drunk he was sure he was tasting colors) decided that American Pie-ing the last slice of still slightly warm pepperoni was better than his own cold hands’, is in fact a term of endearment or not._

**From Bucky:** ****

**God help me, i think it might have been.**

_From Clint:_ __

_Aw, you're making me blush, Sunshine_

**From Bucky:** ****

**And here I thought you'd be a challenge.**

_From Clint:_ __

_Don't slut shame me, I'm a delicate little flower_

**From Bucky:** ****

**I've known you less than 24 hours and I already know that's bullshit, Sweetheart.**

**********

**From Bucky:** ****

**Okay, it's your turn to save me from the tedium that is Sunday night.**

Bucky tucked his phone into the pocket of his jeans before undoing the button and unzipping the fly so he could pull them down and take a seat on the toilet. 

His phone buzzed and he struggled with the pile of fabric around his ankles to find his pocket.

_From Clint:_ __

_How about we play 20 questions? We get 10 each and both have to answer_

**From Bucky:** ****

**Sure. You go first.**

_From Clint:_ __

_If you could be an animal what would you be and why?_

**From Bucky:** ****

**Some old, rich lady’s cat. Come and go as I please, get fed, constant naps on comfortable furniture. That would be the life. You?**

_From Clint:_ __

_I've always thought it would be really cool to fly, but I think you might be right about the pet thing. Maybe a dog, one of those decent sized mutts. Have my human take me to the park and play frisbee, get all the treats and belly rubs then also do naps._

**From Bucky:** ****

**Would you rather have to fight one hundred duck sized horses or one horse sized duck?**

_From Clint:_ __

_Pfft, that's an easy one. One horse sized duck. I could take that thing out with one shot, no wasting ammo or time on having to make 100 shots. Plus it's a duck, not a goose - geese are fucking terrifying._

**From Bucky:** ****

**I feel like there's a story there with the goose thing?**

**Wait, that's not one of my questions though. I think I would have to agree with you on the one horse sized duck.**

_From Clint:_ __

_You're right, there is a story but it's much too long to type out and works much better with visuals, so I'll just say it involves me, 4 Canadian geese, a golf cart, a lake and another water damaged phone._

_My question relates to my last one - you said you'd be a cat, does that mean you're a cat person rather than a dog person?_

**From Bucky:** ****

**Both. My family had a dog and two cats when I was growing up so I like both. I always got on with the cats better but I think they just liked me cause I left them alone, unlike my sister who constantly wanted to be playing with them.**

_From Clint:_ __

_I've never actually had a cat or a dog. But I will literally stop every person I see with a dog so I can ask to pet it. Dogs are the best of us._

**From Bucky:** ****

**What's your Starbucks order?**

_From Clint:_ __

_Fuck Starbucks! I fucking hate that place. I just want a dark roast, black fucking coffee that isn't going to cost half a months fucking rent._

_Oh god, you're one of those fucking basic bitches aren't you? The type who thinks a coffee is some warmed milkshake full of syrup with fucking whipped cream and sprinkles on top like its a fucking dessert and not a life giving beverage. Are you one of those pumpkin spice, chai latte assholes?_

_Tell me it isn't true, I was beginning to like you. You're breaking my heart, Sunshine!_

**From Bucky:** ****

**Wow.**

**You have some strong FEELINGS about coffee.**

**I am sorry to have disappointed you but yes, my coffee preferences are very basic white girl. I may be able to redeem myself some though, I only drink those when I go to Starbucks. First thing in the morning I'm a two cups of dark and strong before I can function sorta guy.**

*********

The texting continued, both of them passing ridiculous questions back and forth for days. Bucky learned that Clint’s favorite dinosaur was ‘a triceratops, obviously’. How exactly it was obvious was never explained, but Bucky was having too much fun with their weird conversations full of innuendo and snark to cross examine the other man too closely about his answers. 

Bucky admitted that the last time he had cried was because of a youtube compilation video of kittens that Becca had sent, whilst Clint told him that his last time had been the day he had first texted Bucky due to the frustration of the day and the sheer boredom and loneliness being cut off from everything. Clint didn’t explain how exactly he was cut off, or why, but Bucky didn’t ask except to confirm that Clint was no longer in that situation. 

Clint’s favorite color was purple, his favorite Disney movie was Robin Hood and he would rather be able to talk to animals than speak all human languages.

_From Clint:_ __

_What is the stupidest injury you have ever gotten?_

Bucky slumped back against the couch, his right leg lifted to rest on the coffee table as he took a pull from his bottle of beer. 

**From Bucky:** ****

**Jumped off a swing when I was 13 and landed wrong. Shattered my ankle and had to have screws put in it to hold it all together while it healed.**

He had been texting back and forth with Clint since he got back from work, his body felt tired but his brain wouldn’t stop whirring long enough for him to go to sleep so he had fallen back on the tactic he used to use as an undergrad; getting wasted enough that he would be able to pass out as soon as his head hit his pillow. 

_From Clint:_ __

_Shit, that sounds painful._

_I once sneezed so violently that I headbutted a table and broke my nose._

Bucky snorted around a mouthful of beer as he read the text. Clint was such a paradox, if his texts were to be believed. He talked about freerunning and gymnastics on the same day that he told Bucky about the time he broke a toe on a door frame when he went to the bathroom in the middle of the night. Clint told him he spoke multiple languages and yet had on more than one occasion texted Bucky because he couldn’t remember a certain word and would try to describe it so Bucky could tell him what it was. 

Clint was just so– _Clint_. 

Somehow, over the course of just a few weeks and exclusively via the written word, he had made Bucky laugh more than he had in the last six months. Often Bucky found his mind fixating on Clint, wondering what he was doing and where he was. 

Clint always seemed to be available. Bucky had texted him at all hours, from early mornings on his way to work to middle of the night conversations when he couldn’t sleep. Did Clint ever sleep? It didn’t seem like it to Bucky. 

**From Bucky:** ****

**What’s your liquor of choice?**

It was a shitty question, but they had been playing for weeks now, having gone way past their allotted 20 questions, and he was running on empty, the beer in his hand the only inspiration he could find. 

_From Clint:_ __

_A friend of mine got me into good Russian vodka, but honestly I’m all about the tequila, especially if it's in the form of body shots_

**From Bucky:** ****

**Only if it’s from someone worth doing body shots off**

_From Clint:_ __

_That’s very true. Don’t need to be licking salt off some old dudes beer belly._

_Just FYI I am someone who it is very much worth doing body shots off of ;)_

The fucking winky face got him. The guy didn’t send an emoji, just typed a freaking semicolon and a bracket. 

He shouldn’t be doing this, right? 

Bucky laid further back against the couch, pulling his ratty sweater up to his armpits as he tried to angle his phone so he could see exactly what he was taking a picture of. He snapped a couple then sat back up and let his sweater fall back down, reviewing his options. No. These would not do. You could see the edge of his threadbare sweatpants that had once been a light grey but were now some weird washed out pink thanks to the time he had had to use the laundromat to wash his clothes rather than his own machine. 

Bucky lifted up his hips to shove the sweats down around his knees and pulled his sweater back up, holding it in place with his chin as he took more pictures. 

This time, he was happy with one of them. It cut off just below the waistband of his black boxer briefs on the bottom and at the top of his pecks at the top. 

He captioned the message and hit send before he could talk himself out of it. 

**From Bucky:** ****

**Is this body shot worthy?**


	2. Chapter 2

Clint sucked in a sharp breath and ignored Nat’s pointed look in his direction. 

Usually Clint loved movie night. Either Tony would choose something ridiculous for them to watch which would rile Steve up or he'd pick a terrible spy movie to try and get Clint and Nat to twitch from the sheer audacity of Hollywood thinking they knew anything about real ops. 

Tonight Tony had been overridden and they were in the middle of watching The Matrix because it was on Steve's list. Clint had nothing against the movie, but he had watched it so many times over the years that it hadn't been holding his attention. So he had been texting Bucky. 

Nat seemed to be the only one who had noticed he wasn't watching, but since he was being quiet about it she hadn't said anything. Yet. 

"If you start sexting your boyfriend I will not hesitate to tell everyone," Nat whispered, leaning in so close that even Steve wouldn't be able to hear her over the TV. 

Clint slapped his phone screen-first against his chest to hide it from her. "He is not my boyfriend," Clint hissed back. 

Nat rolled her eyes at him. "Yet you aren't denying the sexting thing." 

Clint narrowed his eyes at her, trying for a hard and threatening look. Nat blinked at him, face completely neutral. "I hate you," Clint said before pushing himself to his feet and making his way out of the room. 

Nat smirked at him and signed. _You love me. Tell Bucky I said hi._

There was always something intensely satisfying about the rasp of stubble against the back of his fingers whenever he signed 'fuck you' at someone. 

Clint pushed open the door to his suite with one hand as his other unlocked his phone. He looked down at the picture Bucky had sent again. 

Clint wasn't sure exactly what he had thought Bucky’s body would look like, but it wasn't this. Maybe he had idly thought of a soft, mostly flat stomach and maybe decent legs since Bucky had mentioned going for a run a couple of times.

Bucky said he was a student, and worked in some kind of retail. He spoke of long nights working in a lab, and hours sitting on his couch trying to write his thesis. They talked about junk food and binge watching awful shows on Netflix. He wasn't supposed to be fucking ripped. Clint never imagined muscled arms and lickable abs.

_ From Clint _

_Fuck Sunshine. Body shot worthy, whipped cream worthy. Hell I'd lick one of those fucking awful milkshakes you call coffee off of you, whatever you want._

**From Bucky:** ****

**Whatever I want, huh? How about a picture of my very own?**

Yes. Clint could do that. He could very much do that. 

Clint crossed the length of his suite and shouldered his bedroom door open while flicking the button open on his fly, the zipper being yanked down immediately afterwards. With no grace at all, Clink kicked off his jeans and pulled his shirt over his head then launched himself onto the bed, bouncing to a stop with his hands extended towards the bedside table. 

He had to be reading the situation right. Had to. And fuck, if he wasn't then Bucky didn't need to know what he was going to be doing. 

Clint didn't have to rummage for long; the lube was near the top of the junk piled into the drawer. He dropped the bottle onto the bed next to him and lay back against his pillow. 

Taking the picture was harder than he had thought. Trying to get the right amount of body showing without contorting into a weird position was difficult, but Clint was flexible and very much not a quitter. 

Clint regarded the photograph for a few seconds. He had been trying to give Bucky a view of both his torso and a hint of bicep but all he had managed to do was use his arm to highlight the hard line of his cock in his boxers. 

Clint huffed in annoyance at his lack of photography skills.

He hit send anyway. 

**From Bucky:** ****

**Fuck, you're gorgeous**

Clint smirked down at his phone, cursor blinking as he tried to come up with a response. The phone vibrated in his hand.

**From Bucky:** ****

**If I got this wrong then tell me, but if I hit call would you answer?**

Oh fuck yes. It was on!

_ From Clint _

_Ring, ring Sunshine_

Clint gave it two seconds after hitting send on the text before pressing the call button. The phone barely rang once before a voice greeted him on the other end. 

"Hey there, Sweetheart." Fuck! Bucky’s voice was rumbly and rough, slow and relaxed like he was half asleep. 

"Hey," Clint said back. It wasn't inventive or smooth in any way but he couldn’t seem to get his brain to engage around the surge of arousal that hearing Bucky’s voice had caused. 

"Hmm, you want to do this or are you backing out?" 

"I definitely want to do this, but fuck, give a guy a minute to adjust to hearing that Brooklyn drawl."

Clint listened as Bucky let out a dry chuckle before speaking again. "You like my voice darlin'? Want me to whisper sweet nothin's in your ear while you touch yourself?"

Clint groaned, low and deep in the back of his throat. 

Bucky continued talking. 

"Yeah, I think that's exactly what you want, isn't it sweetheart? You want me to tell you how to touch yourself and imagine it's my hands on you. You want me to break you apart, piece by piece until you're nothing but a wreck, begging to come for me." 

Clint's breath caught and he fought back another groan at Bucky's words and voice. His cock had gone from mildly interested to hard as steel in the twenty or so seconds it had taken Bucky to speak those words. 

"What I want is to get my mouth on your fucking abs," Clint said. "Jerk you off until you come all over them before cleaning you up with my tongue."

Bucky let out a hitched sigh on the other end of the phone. Clint could hear movement, the sound of Bucky shifting. 

"You in your bed, darlin'?" Bucky asked him.

"Yeah, stretched out in nothing but my boxers." 

"Then you are very much over-dressed, sweetheart." 

"That can easily be remedied," Clint answered. He pulled the phone in front of him and hit the speakerphone button with his right hand. With his left, he shoved down his boxers before kicking them off the bed. 

In a much quicker fashion than earlier, Clint angled the phone down and took a picture.

Clint heard Bucky’s phone click as he received the picture.

"Well, shit." Bucky’s voice was slightly muffled for a moment but then came back clear. "Now that's somethin' I'd like to get my everythin' on." 

"How about you? You naked for me, Sunshine?"

Clint barely had to wait before a new text notification appeared. 

God, Bucky had nice hands. Okay yeah, Clint should probably be more focused on the thick cock that said hands were holding, but he wanted those long fingers on him, _in him_.

"Fuck babe. You're killing me here with those fucking hands and thighs and that delicious looking dick," Clint ground out as he pushed the heel of his hand to his own cock, the pressure causing sparks of pleasure to shoot through him. 

"Says you," Bucky rumbled back. "I could see lube in the picture, you using it to jack off or are you gonna finger yourself for me?"

Clint snatched the lube up off the comforter. "I'm open to requests." 

"I want you to come on your fingers, without touching your dick."

"Fuck," Clint breathed back. He had never come without some attention to his cock, but then he hadn't ever tried to. "I don't know if I can." 

"Then we'll just hafta keep practicin' 'til you can," Bucky said back, a small hitch in his breathing as he spoke. 

Clint closed his eyes, listening as hard as he could to the sounds from the other end of the phone. Bucky’s breathing was slightly heavier and a couple of barely-there moans carried down the phone line along with the sound of slippery skin on skin. It sounded like Clint wasn't the only one with a stash of lube handy. 

"Tell me what you're doin' darlin’," Bucky prodded. "You on your back with your legs spread nice'n wide for me? Or are you on your knees with your face pushed into the mattress?" 

Clint pressed his head back against his pillow as his cock jumped at the images Bucky was describing. "I'm gettin' on my knees," Clint said, rolling to the side and pushing himself up onto all fours. He snatched his phone so it rested on his pillow. 

Bucky hummed at the sound of the lube cap opening and Clint squeezed his eyes shut so tight that he briefly saw flashes of colors. 

"Get your fingers nice'n wet, sweetheart, I want you drippin' 'n open when you fuck yourself. I wanna hear it."

Clint perhaps took Bucky's instruction a little too seriously as he emptied out way too much lube into his hand. Then again, it could also have been the lack of control he had over his body when he was this turned on. 

He divided the lube between both hands and leaned forward, pressing his forehead into the pillow next to the phone so he could use both hands on himself. 

"I haven't fingered myself in ages," Clint confessed as he used one hand to pull his cheeks apart and the other spread lube around his hole. He didn't press inside, instead using the flat pads of his fingers to caress the wrinkled skin, teasing himself. "I always forget how good it fuckin' feels"

"Not as good as my mouth would feel."

Clint jerked in arousal, the tip of his index finger breaching him shallowly and a shout of pleasure passing his lips. "Fuck."

Bucky’s breathing was uneven as he continued to speak. "I guess that's another for the yes column, huh, sugar? You want to be laid out for me, let me lick and suck on your hole?"

Clint slid his index finger the rest of the way inside himself, pausing only long enough for Bucky to finish speaking before his middle finger joined the first. 

"I want to sit on your face while I suck your cock," Clint admitted, the scene playing out spectacularly behind his closed eyes. "Want to take you to the edge again and again while you open me up with your tongue, then ride your dick until you can't hold on anymore." 

"Fuck, Sweetheart. Yes. I want that too. Want you to pull my orgasm out of me then I’ll flip you over and suck you dry." 

A high pitched moan that bordered on a whimper signalled Clint’s first brush with his prostate. A series of expletives that he would not be able to recall later followed as he adjusted his angle and applied more pressure. 

"Bucky, fuck. I'm so fucking close, I need–"

The sounds coming from the other end of the phone were frantic. Bucky was obviously jerking himself off pretty vigorously, the wet slapping sounds loud and lewd. 

"M'close too sweetheart," Bucky replied, his voice breathy. "So fucking close, listening to you fuck yourself for me, you sound so good darlin'. So fuckin' good, I'm gonna paint my fucking chest so good for you."

Sparks of sensation ran up Clint's spine like lightning as he fingered himself faster, hitting his prostate over and over, his hips swaying as he fucked himself back onto his own fingers. 

Clint was practically chanting the word yes, his ignored cock was dripping with precome and slapping into his stomach whenever he made a particularly vigorous thrust. 

Bucky swore on the other end of the phone. "Shit, fuck, I'm gonna come, fuck. Come with me, Sweetheart."

A spike of intense pleasure ripped through Clint at Bucky’s words. "I'm gonna–" Clint managed to rasp out before Bucky spoke again.

"Come on, Clint. Fuck, come with me– yes–" Bucky moaned, long and loud and filthy, the sound broken at the end by a hushed and forced sounding 'please'. 

Clint was pretty sure he saw the birth of the universe behind his closed eyes, but that could just have been from how tight his eyes had been screwed shut. He came so hard that a glob of jizz landed across his phone screen. 

A laugh bubbled out of Clint as he collapsed onto his stomach and stretched his arms out in front of him. Ignoring the feeling of lying in his own spunk, he turned his head towards the phone. 

Bucky was breathing heavily on the other end of the phone, catching his breath as Clint did the same. 

The sheets were already ruined, so Clint wiped his hands clean against the bed then wiped his phone screen down on it too. 

"That as good for you as it was for me?" Clint asked as a shit eating grin took over his face. 

"Fuckin' spectacular, darlin'." 

Clint hummed in agreement. "We should do this again."

Bucky was moving, Clint could hear the rustle of fabric and what he thought was the sound of crinkling tissues. "Definitely," Bucky answered, "I can't remember the last time I came that fuckin' hard."

Clint huffed a sharp breath out his nose in amusement. "I ain't sure I ever _have_ come that hard." 

Bucky laughed gently. "Well then, I guess we'll have to make this a regular thing, I can't be responsible for you having subpar orgasms, that would be almost cruel."

"Downright evil is what it would be, Sunshine," Clint shot back. 

"I guess I could perhaps be persuaded to stay away from the dark side if you supply me with a steady stream of those delicious pictures." 

Clint let out an exaggerated gasp. "Blackmail, Sunshine? And here I thought you were a paragon of all that is sweetness and light." 

"Now where the hell would be the fun in that?"

********

Bucky hadn't been lying to him. After their first time talking on the phone, their texts took on an even flirtier tone. Every other day or so, they usually culminated in the most spectacular phone sex Clint had ever experienced.

Bucky liked taking pictures and sending them to Clint throughout the day. Clint had a whole folder on his phone dedicated to them. Pictures of Bucky’s chest and thighs, and countless pictures of his cock both bare and straining against whatever clothes he was wearing. 

Clint responded in kind. Pictures of him fresh from sparring with Steve, covered in sweat, that cut off at the neck. Pictures of his abs and arms, and one that Bucky said was his favourite of Clint totally naked, still wet from a shower. It had been taken in the mirror over his shoulder so his back was to the camera. 

That was a line neither of them seemed to want to cross. No pictures of their faces. It would have bothered Clint, maybe should have, if he wasn't the one with something to hide. It had been months, and still he had never told Bucky who he was. He was starting to think that at this point there was no way to do that which wouldn't result in Bucky blocking his number and never speaking to him again. 

It wasn't that they didn't talk about their lives, just that Bucky insisted his was pretty boring and never offered up identifying information like which school he attended, what he was studying or where exactly his god awful retail job was. And Clint was fine with that. It meant Bucky didn't push when Clint said he worked security and would sometimes disappear for a day or so at a time when he had a job. 

And Bucky was smart. So fucking smart, there was no way that he didn’t know that Clint was hiding something. They had skirted around topics that Clint thought would give him away, Clint changing the subject rapidly or just sending Bucky a new picture as a distraction and Bucky just _let him_ , not questioning or mentioning it in any way. 

Okay. Clint was fucked. He knew it. More irritatingly, Natasha also knew it somehow. 

"He lives in the city right?" Nat asked, not waiting for Clint to answer before she continued. "So just tell him you want to meet up, take him for coffee or whatever."

Clint scrunched his face up in distaste. "It's not that simple."

Nat levelled him with a look. "Yes it is, you're just being all _you_ about it."

"I don't think I want to ask what the hell that's supposed to mean." 

"It means that as laid back as you are about everything else in your life, including your own survival when you decide to take a swan dive out of a 32nd floor window, you overthink and over complicate anything to do with relationships." 

Clint rolled his eyes. "Good job I'm not in a relationship then, isn't it?" 

Clint held back a flinch as Natasha simply blinked at him. "He means something to you." 

She paused a second, watching Clint for any change of expression. "You never talk about him, the rest of the team don't even know."

Clint nodded. "Yeah, exactly. It's not a big deal. Nat, he's just a guy that I text that's all."

Nat sighed and mumbled something under her breath in Russian that Clint couldn't decipher. "That is exactly my point Clint. You don't talk about it. How many times has Tony threatened to sabotage your bow so you'll stop talking about your latest conquest? How many times have you sat and talked about giving head in excruciating detail in front of Steve just to see how deep a shade of red you could get him to go? How many times have I walked out on a conversation when you've been regaling me with a blow by blow of your latest hook up? Yet this, whatever this is with Bucky, you're keeping to yourself." 

Clint opened his mouth to defend himself but found he had no words. He snapped his jaw closed again with an audible click.

"You like him," Nat prodded. "Ask him out, tell him you like him. Take a chance, Clint, ‘cause he isn't going to wait around forever for you to get a fucking clue." With a final look at him, Nat strode out of the room. 

And she said _he_ was dramatic. 

Clint sighed and let his head fall back against the back of the couch. She was so fucking infuriating. Meddling. Annoying. 

She was also right. 

Clint hadn't even seen the guys face, but he was so fucking _gone_ on Bucky. He wanted more. Wanted to see him and hold him and be with him, he wanted to touch him and learn every inch of Bucky. 

That wasn't even the real problem though. 

The problem was Clint wanted even more than that. More than the physical. More than having Bucky in his bed, Clint wanted Bucky _in his life_. Wanted Bucky wrapped in his arms at night when he went to sleep and for him to still be there in the morning. 

Clint wanted Bucky in the tower with his friends, and he wanted to be welcome in Bucky’s apartment with Bucky’s friends. He wanted days and nights and weekends full of _them_. Together. 

*********

"Fuck, sweetheart. You're amazin', you know that, right?" Bucky asked, catching his breath.

Clint's filter was always a little fucked after an amazing orgasm, and Bucky never disappointed in that department. "One day, I'm going to suck your soul right out through your dick just so you understand how it fucking feels when you make me come," Clint panted back, after turning off his speakerphone and holding his cell to his ear with an unsteady hand. 

"That a threat or a promise?" Bucky shot back.

Clint barked out a laugh. "Both?" 

Bucky sighed on the other end of the line and they both descended into silence.

"You 'sleep?" Bucky asked after a few minutes of nothing but breathing between them, sounding halfway there himself.

"No," Clint answered. "Do you–" he trailed off, not completing his thought. 

"Do I, what?" 

"Would that be something you want?" Clint asked, voice almost a whisper. 

"A blowjob?" 

"No. Well, yeah, but–" Fuck. He couldn't ask. Couldn't take the chance that this would fuck everything up between them. "It doesn't matter, forget I said anything." 

"Clint?" 

"It's just that–" He couldn't lie down whilst having this conversation. Clint hauled himself to his feet and padded to the bathroom to clean the drying come off his stomach. "We both live in New York, and we've been talking for like six months now–" 

"Oh."

Clint dunked the edge of a towel under running water in the sink and scrubbed at himself with one hand. "Fuck. Just– it really doesn't matter. Ignore me. It's fine. I should go. I'll talk to you– whenever, have a good night."

"Clint, wait." Clint could hear Bucky moving around on the other end of the phone, bed springs groaning and the sound of floorboards creaking carrying over the silence. "I like you, a lot–"

Clint fucking hated where this was going, he could feel the 'but' about to punch him in the stomach. "–no, hey. Look, it's fine. I'm the one who made this weird or whatever so don't–"

"Can I get a fucking sentence out please?" Bucky snapped, his voice taking on an edge Clint had never heard before. 

"I– yeah. Sure." 

"I'm not good at this," Bucky said. "Fooling around and whatever we've been doing, I know how to do that but I like you. I like you a whole fucking lot, Clint, and I don't know what to do with that." 

Clint swallowed past the dry lump in his throat. "Let me take you out to dinner?" Clint suggested. "Or a movie, or something else. Whatever you want."

"Like a date?" Bucky asked, voice quiet and gentle. 

"Yeah, Sunshine. Exactly like a date." 

"Yeah– okay– We can do that."

Clint almost didn't recognise himself when he looked up and met his own eyes in the mirror. The grin on his face so big it was almost crinkling his eyes shut. "Okay."


	3. Chapter 3

Doombots. Again. 

Every few months Dr Doom would surface, or more specifically his bots would surface. Tony always took it as some kind of insult whenever the robots swarmed into the city and started wreaking havoc. Clint hated the stupid bots. His arrows couldn’t penetrate their thick armor unless he hit a weak spot, and while that wasn’t really a challenge to him, it was all so much of the same over and over again. 

There were more of them than usual this time. Doom seemed to have made quite a few upgrades since the last time they had met the bots, and Clint’s EMP arrows were less effective. Even the explosive arrows were doing more damage to property than to the bots themselves. 

Thor was denting the bots with each swing of his hammer though and Tony’s repulsors were still effective up close. Clint was starting to feel useless. 

“Hawkeye, need you down on the ground getting civilians out” Cap’s voice was stern over the comms. 

“Roger, Rogers.” 

Cap’s sigh carried over the comms and Clint smirked as he loosed a grappling arrow to zip line down to street level where he could do something remotely helpful. 

“I got a couple dozen civilians heading to the subway,” Clint reported as he ushered the people onwards whilst keeping his sharp eyes on the skies nearby for any stray Doombots that might try and dive bomb them. 

“I’m going to need some kind of assist here, guys,” Sam shouted over the sounds of clanging metal that indicated he was in close combat with some bots. “Apartment building over here has taken a lot of hits, there's a fire, and it might come down. We need to get the people out and there’s still five bots on me.” 

“Location?” Cap asked. “Iron Man, Widow and Hawkeye, get over there as soon as you can. Thor, Hulk and I will deal with the rest of them here.” 

Sam rattled off an address in Crown Heights, just a few blocks from where the rest of them were fighting. 

“Hawkeye, we have a problem,” Nat’s voice was sharp and she didn’t wait for his response. “I may have lied to you.” 

Clint sprinted forwards to grab an older woman who had fallen in the run towards the subway. He helped her to her feet and kept an arm around her waist to pull her onward as he replied to Nat. “I’m not sure this is exactly the time for a confession, Widow.” 

“It most definitely is not!” Tony’s voice cut through. “Cap! They’re talking about non-mission shit on the comms!” he teased.

“Shut up, Tony!” Cap answered back, his voice a grunt that indicated he had been either throwing or catching his shield as he spoke. 

“Oh, that’s how it is? When it’s me you’re all ‘that’s not appropriate, Tony. Stop talking about sex on the comms, Tony. The comms are not your own personal voiceover, Tony.’” The man huffed loud enough to be picked up by the comm. “Rude.” 

Clint rolled his eyes at Tony’s antics, even though no one could see. 

“This is mission-adjacent,” Nat said. 

“You gonna leave us hanging there, Widow? We’re all curious now,” Tony cut in again. “What could the Black Widow possibly have lied about to her BFF?” 

“I ran a background check on Bucky.” Clint’s stride faltered at Nat’s words.

“Who the hell is Bucky?” Tony asked. 

There were a few moments of nothing but the sounds of fighting before Nat responded. “The building Sam said is about to go down, it’s Bucky’s.” 

Clint’s breath caught in the back of his throat, a deep seated feeling of dread bloomed in the pit of his stomach at Nat’s words. 

“Who the hell is Bucky?” Tony repeated, as if asking a second time would get him an answer. 

“Nat–?” Clint’s heart was racing in his chest, much faster than it had been just seconds ago.

A flash of red hair in his peripheral caused the steel bands that seemed to have wrapped around his chest to let up slightly. “I’ve got the civilians here, go!” Nat emphasised with a push to Clint’s chest to get him moving. “Fourth floor, 401. Kitchen window faces the fire escape." 

Clint didn’t need to be told twice. He ran. Ducking and weaving around debris that littered the street. Swerving around cars that had been abandoned when the bots had attacked. 

“Hawkeye!” Cap shouted as Clint sprinted past him, dodging under the arm of a Doombot by throwing himself into a forward roll. “Wait for Widow and Iron Man!” 

Clint did not stop. “Sorry Cap, no can do.” 

“Clint!” It was a command, an order. Clint ignored it.

“I’m on it, Cap! Widow can catch up once she’s done playing crossing guard,” Tony said after blasting the last Doombot that he had been engaging. “Hop on, Katniss.”

Without pause, Clint stepped up behind where Tony landed and latched onto the hidden hand and footholds that Tony had recently integrated into the suit since he kept having to give various teammates lifts. “Go!” 

Tony lifted off and headed towards Sam, who was busy leading the Doombots around in a very dangerous game of chase and shooting them with one of Tony’s modified guns. It didn’t seem to be doing much. 

“So, you gonna spill?” Tony asked as he swooped to a stop and raised an arm to blast one of the Doombots behind Sam. 

“Spill what?” Clint asked, not really paying much attention to his teammate or the Doombots. Instead, he was scanning the area and every single person quickly. Cataloguing and dismissing each as simply ‘not Bucky’. He wasn’t sure how he knew that, as he had never seen the other man’s face, just flashes of a chiseled chest, thick thighs and delectable looking cock when they had been sexting, but something told him that if he saw the other man that he would just _know_.

Clint assumed that Bucky had dark hair as his body hair was dark, but he could dye it. That didn’t seem right though; he was sure they had a conversation at some point about Bucky being the ‘tall, dark and handsome’ type as opposed to Clint’s ‘big, blond and beautiful’. 

“Who is Bucky?” Tony asked again. 

How the fuck did he answer that? What was Bucky to him? They weren’t boyfriends, they hadn’t even met yet. That was something that he thought he had another week to freak out about before he had to face. They weren’t strictly friends either; friends did not send each other dick pics and have phone sex. Friends didn’t make Clint’s stomach swoop down to his knees at the mere thought of seeing them in person. Friends certainly did not evoke ridiculous fantasies of sharing a home and getting a dog and being disgustingly _domestic_. 

Bucky had somehow turned into _everything_ but that was so fucking stupid and not something Clint was willing to mutter out loud within a hundred mile radius of Tony Stark, let alone when he was still clinging to his armor like he was freeclimbing the other man. 

Clint had obviously been silent for too long. Nat’s voice was cool and calm as usual, no hint of anything but decorum and control as he watched her run down the street in their direction. “It’s his boyfriend.” 

“No! Nat,” Clint snapped back at her, still searching the area with his superior vision. 

“Well what _would_ you call him them?” she shot back. 

Clint paused, giving Tony enough time to process the words spoken between the two spies. “Wait, wait, wait. Legolas plays for the other team? Why did I not know this?” 

Clint groaned in annoyance. “I play for all the teams, Tony.” 

“Ahh, fuck the rules right? That’s very you.” Somehow Tony had made it sound like the highest form of compliment. “And me, me too.” 

A snort of amusement sounded down the comms and if Clint didn’t know any better he would have thought it had come from Natasha. But he did know better, and even in a weird other dimension where she would have made such an undignified noise he knew better than to actually comment on it. 

“And he is not my boyfriend. He’s a friend. I think.” 

“A friend who you have been obsessing over for months,” Nat cut back in.

“Bucky doesn’t even know who I am, okay? We’ve never met in person, it’s just like a phone friend or whatever.” 

“A phone friend who exchanges pictures that made me want to bleach my eyeballs.” 

“I told you to stop hacking into my phone.” 

“So this ‘phone friend’–” Tony broke in, stopping blasting the Doombots long enough to use his hands to emphasise the phrase. 

“Bucky,” Nat supplied. 

“This, Bucky, he’s the reason you’ve been stuck to your phone like a tween with her first crush?” 

“Fuck off!” Clint dislodged one of his feet, swinging it back to kick at Tony’s armored leg, it did nothing but send shooting pains through Clint’s toes. “We haven’t talked about what’s going on with us or whatever, we were gonna do that next week.” 

“You scheduled a heart to heart conversation? Who are you, Pepper?” Tony accused. 

Nat answered for Clint, running across the street and coming to a stop in front of an apartment building. “First date, in person.” 

“Oh my god, Nat! Am I not allowed a fucking second of privacy? Why the fuck am I friends with you?” Clint grumbled. 

“Friends are meant to tell each other things, and you very much did not tell me so I had to find out for myself.” 

Tony helped Sam take down another bot, just two of them remaining now before he swooped down towards the ground so that Clint could jump off his back. 

“You could have asked!” Clint hissed at her. “You could have just fucking spoken to me like a normal person!” 

Nat narrowed her eyes at him and tilted her head in a look that screamed ‘challenge’. “And you would have told me?” 

Clint snapped away from the eye contact, looking down at his feet. It was more of an answer than anything else could have been. 

“I’m pretty sure that now is not the time to be venting your weird sibling angst,” Sam shouted. “Something in that building is on fire, we need to evac it and someone needs to clear the street so the fire trucks can get through.” 

“I can be of assistance moving vehicles,” Thor’s voice answered through the comms. “I have defeated the last of these metal men in my location.” 

Cap spoke next. “Good. Thor, get over there. Hulk and I will be over as soon as we finish off the rest of these guys.” 

Sam touched down next to Clint, Tony and Nat. “If we take a floor each we should be able to get everyone out quickly. I’ll take the top, Tony take the third floor, Clint take the second, Nat get th–” A wave of intense heat, shattering glass and screams rent the air. Clint and Nat would have been knocked off their feet if they were anyone else. The explosion had come from the third floor, the windows facing the street blown out and spilling bright orange flames out of their gaping frames. 

Clint reacted, throwing himself away from the others and around the corner. Clint stepped back from the wall of the building to take a run up. Using the wall to launch himself upwards to catch the ladder for the fire escape and pulling himself up onto the rickety metal. 

“Scans are showing no life signs on the fourth floor,” Tony supplied. “We got two in the apartment the explosion came from. It looks like everyone else is making their way out, a bunch of people in the stairway between fourth and first.” 

The ladder creaked and groaned as Clint climbed, throwing himself towards the next ladder as soon as one foot touched the landing between each level. 

Clint could hear the sounds of doors opening, Nat and Sam talking to scared residents as they ushered them out of the burning building. 

“He’s not here,” Nat muttered, probably so that Clint didn’t hear her. 

“What do you mean he isn’t there?” Clint demanded as he pulled himself to his feet on the third floor. 

Tony swept around the building, an unconscious woman slung over his shoulder. “I scanned the fourth again and it’s empty. 

“Third is clear,” Sam said down the comms, before speaking rapidly to someone - Clint assumed it was a paramedic - about the unconscious person he was handing over.

Clint could feel the heat from the fire coming through the walls as he wound around to grab the ladder that would take him to the fourth floor. 

“We have movement on the roof,” Tony said. “You need a lift up Legolas? Or should I start playing firefighter?” 

Clint practically launched himself at the last ladder that would take him up to the roof. “I’m fine,” Clint called back to Tony before another explosion ripped through the building and he was maybe not so fine anymore. 

Clint clung to the ladder, ears ringing at the sound of the lower half of the fire escape clattering to the ground with resounding clangs. His feet scrambled to find purchase against the brick wall for a moment before he found his grip and hauled himself upwards with his arms. 

“I fucking hate doombots,” Clint mumbled to himself under his breath as his fingers made contact with the edge of the building. “Fucking– piece of– fuck–” The blond swore as he was finally able to pull himself onto the roof and more solid footing. 

“Hello–?”

Fuck. 

That was _his_ voice. 

Shit.

He was not prepared for this. He was covered in dust and cuts and bruises. He could feel the sticky wetness of blood drying against his temple and knew that his hair would be fucking atrocious without even looking. 

Clint moved away from the edge of the building and pulled his bow from its position on his back so that he had something to cling to when his eyes finally found Bucky. 

“Holy shit, you’re Hawkeye.” 

Clint nodded slowly, looking Bucky up and down as he tried to keep his breathing under control. 

He was here. Right in front of him. 

Shit, he was so fucking _pretty_. Looking like every hipster wet dream Clint had ever had. Long, dark hair pulled into a small artfully messy bun on top of his head with soft looking tendrils escaping to frame his face, one piece on the right side catching against the stubble on his cheek. Grey blue eyes regarded Clint. 

“You’re bleeding,” Bucky said, taking a measured step forward as if he was worried about spooking Clint. 

Fuck. 

Clint clicked his mouth closed, teeth clashing together. Bucky had an honest to god chin dimple. A fucking chin dimple. Clint swallowed past the dryness in his throat and brought the hand that didn’t currently have a death grip on his bow up to rake it over his face and through his hair. The feeling of slippery blood smearing against his forehead was familiar and somewhat grounding. 

“Are you okay?” 

Clint really should say something. _Anything_. Instead, he nodded again. 

The building shook beneath them as another blast rocked the foundation. Bucky swore loudly and Clint jumped at him without thought, snagging him around the waist to stop him falling to the ground. 

All at once sounds from the rest of the world made themselves known to Clint. He heard the other Avengers coordinating through the comms. He heard the roaring of the fire spreading through the building, the sounds of sirens and megaphones shouting orders and finally the sound of his own ragged breathing. 

“Wanna get out of here?” 

Bucky snorted an amused sound at him. “Thought you’d never ask.” 

Realisation dawned on Clint all at once that he still held the other man around the middle. He let his hands slide down from around his waist, probably revelling in the feeling of running his hands down Bucky’s hips a little more than the situation called for. 

Clint made his way over to the side of the building, looking down at the collapsed fire escape and making a face. Lifting his head, he assessed the nearby buildings with a critical eye. The apartment building wasn’t exactly tall, neither were any of the other buildings around. Ziplining it was not really an option, there was nothing to anchor to that would take the weight of two grown men and Clint was not going to let Bucky go down alone unless he had no other choice. 

He could lower Bucky down to the ground from the other end of the roof, as far away from the blown out windows as possible but there was risk there. _Too much risk_ Clint decided. 

Clint grimaced and flung his bow back over his shoulder. “Falcon, I need a civilian evac from the roof.” 

It was not Sam who answered. “He’s a little busy right now, Cupid.” Clint could hear the smirk on Tony’s face. “I, however, am completely available to come and rescue your boyfriend.” 

The word that ripped out of Clint’s throat was practically a growl. “Stark!”

Tony’s laughter followed. “On my way, darling!” 

Clint descended into swearing in every language he could possibly remember, pointedly not looking at where Bucky stood a few feet away from him.


	4. Chapter 4

Holy. Fucking. Biceps.

Bucky’s mind catches onto the words like they're a mantra, repeating them over and over as he watches Hawkeye pace back and forth barking out words in a variety of languages that Bucky has no hope of following. 

Blond. Freckles. _Tall_. **Biceps**. Shoulders. Arms. Fucking _**Biceps**_.

Bucky tells himself that he needs to calm the fuck down and has just about managed to tear his eyes away from the guy in front of him when Iron Man swoops into view and lands in front of Bucky. 

Iron Man's face plate lifts and Bucky watches as Tony Stark looks him up and down, slowly, as if with purpose. 

Hawkeye raises a finger, pointing it right at Stark. He doesn't say anything, his lips pressed so tight that they're nothing but a thin white line. 

Stark rolls his eyes then looks back at Bucky. 

"Romeo here can show you where to grab on," Stark winked at him. Tony Fucking Stark winked, at him. What the absolute living fuck was today?

"Tony." Hawkeye sounded exasperated. 

"Come on! Saddle up, Eye Candy, we don't have all day. Building could collapse at any second." Bucky was pretty sure that was bullshit but he looked to Hawkeye for instruction on how to secure himself to the Iron Man armor anyway. 

Hawkeye didn't actually say anything, just gestured with his chin at Iron Man's back and put his own hands and feet in the holds to show him how before stepping back so Bucky could do the same. Hawkeye nudged him in the back of the knee with his own knee so Bucky was plastered more solidly against Stark's back. 

"Hold on tight, Buckaroo!" Stark shouted over his shoulder as he lifted off. 

It wasn't until he was stumbling back to his own feet at street level that he realised what Stark had said. 

Stark's faceplate lifted. "You okay? Barton'll kill me if I damage the goods." 

Bucky nodded to the question levelled at him. “How do you know my name, and who is Barton?” He asked back, trying to feign some kind of nonchalance at the fact that he was talking to a fucking superhero. 

“This him?” Huge metallic wings folded away as the man spoke. Bucky didn’t try to hide the confusion on his face as Iron Man confirmed to Falcon that yes, this was ‘him’ whatever that meant. 

“Aw, Avengers, no.” 

Bucky started at the voice right behind him and spun around to face Hawkeye and the Black Widow, he hadn’t heard them approach and had no clue how the hell Hawkeye had managed to get down from the building without the aid of Iron Man or Falcon flying him down, especially not that fast. 

The Black Widow made a humming sound in the back of her throat as she looked him over. It made his skin crawl, like she was examining every single cell in his body and finding only flaws. Hawkeye bumped his elbow against her shoulder. “Nat. Stop.” 

The Widow blinked slowly once then turned to Hawkeye. “You should take him to the tower.” 

Bucky flicked his eyes around at the group as they nodded and made agreeable noises, except for Hawkeye. 

“I need to stay, see if I can salvage anything,” Bucky said. 

Stark scrunched his nose at him. “I’m sure your sugar daddy here will buy you anything you ask for.” As soon as the words had left his mouth Stark let out a shocked, high pitched noise and rubbed at his forehead. “Ouch!” He complained. “What the fuck did you throw at me?” 

Hawkeye flipped him off.

“Paperclip?” Widow asked, leaning forward to get a closer look at the red outline in the middle of Stark’s forehead. 

All at once a wave of awful crashed over Bucky. His home was fucked, no way was his insurance good enough to actually cover the cost of what he would lose if the fire spread to his place or the building came down, and he didn’t exactly have the money for a hotel or anywhere else to go in the meantime. 

He had nothing on him.

When the fire alarms had started he had been trying to sleep off an all-night lab session. It was lucky he had bothered to pull on yesterday's jeans and t-shirt and not just run out into the hall in his underwear. He wasn’t even wearing socks, had just shoved his bare feet into his Converse. He didn’t have his keys or wallet. Hadn’t even picked up his cellphone from the floor where it was charging next to his bed. 

His fucking thesis was in there, on his new laptop that he had shelled out a thousand bucks for last year. 

Bucky didn’t realise he was shaking until he felt a blanket being draped around his shoulders. “Oh my god,” Bucky breathed out as his knees buckled and he lurched forwards only to be caught by strong arms pulling him back into a hard body. 

“Shh, it’s going to be okay,” the voice said reassuringly. 

Hands rubbed up and down his arms over the blanket, heat seeping through the woolen material and onto Bucky’s skin. 

“He’s going into shock,” Falcon’s voice was soft, addressing Hawkeye, who Bucky now realised he was leaning against. “Take him to the tower, keep him calm. Get a hot drink into him.” 

Hawkeye nodded, his chin catching the top of Bucky’s head gently as he did. 

Bucky clutched at the blanket, holding it closed against his chest in clenched fists. Hawkeye stopped rubbing at his arms and stepped to the side once he was sure Bucky was steady on his feet. 

“You still with me?” Hawkeye asked. At Bucky’s silent nod he wound his right arm around Bucky’s shoulder and pulled Bucky against his side as they started walking slowly towards a group of black SUVs. 

“What about–?” Bucky tried to question but was cut off by the other man. 

“We can come back tomorrow once it’s all settled, I promise we’ll try and save everything we can, alright?” 

They had arrived at the closest SUV and so rather than answer, Bucky just let himself be helped into the back of the car, scooting over when Hawkeye nudged him so he could climb in next to him. 

Bucky stared out the window at his building as Hawkeye had a short conversation with the driver of the vehicle. Flames were still licking up the side of sections of the building, spilling out of windows and covering the brickwork in soot. 

The car started to move. Hawkeye once again pulled Bucky against him with an arm around his shoulder. 

“Why’re you bein’ so nice to me?” Bucky mumbled, not sure if he actually wanted to know the answer or not. He felt pathetic, he was a fucking grown-assed man and should not be falling apart when he hadn’t even been hurt. Sure he might lose some stuff, but he could have lost his life, he should be happy– grateful, not whatever the fuck this was. 

When did he start crying? 

Hawkeye strengthened his hold on him, pulling Bucky and angling him so Bucky’s cheek rested against his chest. Hawkeye was making soft shushing noises and stroking his hair back from his face. 

Shit, he was so pathetic. 

“Hey, no,” Hawkeye said in a firm voice. Bucky must have spoken aloud if the blond man’s next words were any indication. “You are not pathetic. You’ve been through some bad shit today, but it’s going to be alright. You’re amazing, perfect–” 

Bucky pulled back from the other man so he could look at him properly. Scrubbing a hand over his face to try and rid himself of the tears that had been running down his skin. “I don't understand what’s going on–?” It was an unfinished question but a question nonetheless. 

Darkness fell in the car as it pulled into an underground garage. Hawkeye flicked his chin at the driver who left the vehicle, walking off towards the entrance to the garage. 

It only took a few seconds for Bucky’s eyes to adjust to the low light in the car. Hawkeye sighed heavily and tucked a strand of Bucky’s hair behind his ear gently. “Let’s go inside and get you settled, then we can talk.” 

Bucky let the blanket fall off his shoulders and onto the seat of the car as he exited the vehicle, Hawkeye walked close as they made their way to an elevator, their arms brushing occasionally. 

No buttons were pressed to summon the elevator, the doors simply slid open as they approached, like it had been waiting for them. Once inside, it again moved without instruction from either man. Something in Bucky distantly thought that this should have been something to pay attention to, but he was so _tired_.

The elevator opened into a large, open plan space that housed what seemed to be some kind of living area and a kitchen. Hawkeye strode forward towards a hallway with just two doors on either side, he veered to the right hand door which made an electronic sounding ‘click’ just before he grabbed the handle and opened it. 

Hawkeye ushered Bucky into a very high-end apartment. It was open plan, like the room they just walked through and it also housed a living area and kitchen. Three doors lined the back wall, two of them open to reveal a bedroom and a bathroom. 

“Make yourself at home,” Hawkeye said, gesturing to the large L shaped couch that dominated the space in front of a massive TV as he walked by it towards the kitchen. 

Bucky took a deep breath. Nothing made sense today. Maybe he was still asleep? Having some kind of stress response from worrying about his thesis. Fucked up nightmares happened when you got stressed, right? Maybe it was the two day old leftover chinese food he had shovelled into his mouth before passing out this morning? 

Bucky let himself fall to the couch, kicking his shoes off and nudging them under the coffee table with his toes before curling up and hugging his knees to his chest. He scooted back until he was nestled into the corner of the couch and tried not to think. 

The soft clink of a cup being placed on the coffee table in front of him brought Bucky back to himself. Hawkeye had changed into pale blue jeans and a t-shirt that looked like it had been worn and washed a million times. It hugged nicely at his torso. Like Bucky, he was barefoot. The blood had been cleaned from his face and his hair still had some residual moisture clinging to the ends. 

Hawkeye sat adjacent to him, his long legs stretched out and resting on the coffee table. He was turned so they could actually see each other properly for the first time since the roof. 

“How’re you feelin’?” Hawkeye asked him, his blue-green eyes searching Bucky’s face for an answer. 

Bucky swallowed back the dryness in his throat. “Like–” He paused and took a breath. “–not great.” He admitted. “I don’t–” Tears filled his eyes again, itching and burning. He tried to blink them away and was only partially successful. “Everything I have is in that apartment. I don't even have my fucking phone.” And that was fucking stupid and unimportant and yet it was fucking _everything_. “I need my phone,” Bucky continued, “I don’t–” 

Hawkeye looked away and dug around in his pocket, pulling out his cellphone and balancing it on Bucky’s raised knee. “Here, call anyone you need to.” 

The tears ramped back up and he choked back a sob before taking a deep breath and clearing his throat to stop the onslaught. “I don’t know the number,” Bucky said, taking the phone and handing it back to Hawkeye. 

“Okay,” Hawkeye said, nodding to him and dropping the phone onto the cushion next to him. “That’s okay. Stark has this AI, we can ask him to get the number. You just need to tell him who you want to call and he’ll find it for you, no big deal.” 

Bucky knew when he was being coddled but the usual spike of annoyance and resentment was absent. Hawkeye looked so sincere, like he really did just want to help and to stop Bucky from crying, not because it was an inconvenience but because he honestly cared that Bucky was hurting. 

Fuck, that was even worse. 

Embarrassment flooded through Bucky’s chest, making it feel fluttery and like it was full of helium, light and airy and without enough oxygen to actually take a proper breath. Bucky leant forwards, elbows on knees, face in his hands to hide his cheeks that he was certain were flushing red. 

“I don’t know it.” 

“What?”

“I only know his first name. We never– If my phone is gone then I’ll never be able to–” Bucky tried to clarify, keeping his face hidden in his hands. 

“Oh.” Hawkeye was silent for a fraction of a beat before he spoke again. “Oh! Wait. Did you mean–? Hey, Bucky. Look at me.” Bucky felt tentative fingers touch his chin, gentle pressure encouraging him to lift his face from his hands so he could look at Hawkeye. 

Bucky kept his eyes downcast, not wanting to look in those ridiculously beautiful eyes and see pity. He didn’t think he would be able to keep the tears at bay if he saw that soft look again. 

Hawkeye shifted in his seat, scooting closer to Bucky and ducking his head to try and get Bucky to look at him properly. “Hey, come on now Sunshine, look at me.” 

Bucky’s head snapped up so fast that he was surprised he didn't wrench his neck. “What did you–?” 

He was having a heart attack. Obviously that was what it was. He was hallucinating while dying in the fire or having some kind of fucked up dream and his heart was pounding so fucking hard that he was sure it was going to break out of his chest. 

_Sunshine_. Hawkeye had called him Sunshine. Hawkeye, who was looking at him with a worry line marring his insanely perfect face. Hawkeye, with his nonsensical biceps barely contained in his tight t-shirt, had called _Bucky_ Sunshine. 

It made no sense. None at all. 

“Clint–?” 

Hawkeye nodded at him. “Yeah, Sunshine, It’s me. I’m Clint.” 

Perhaps it was the adrenaline spike, maybe it was the feeling of ‘what the fuck else can go wrong today’, it could have been the look that Hawkeye – _Clint_ – was giving him or, it could have been none of these and just his own pure recklessness that caused Bucky to twist in his seat, throw his right leg over Clint’s thighs and bury his hands in Clint’s hair as he practically slammed their lips together.

Clint let out a sound that was verging on a squeak at the sudden movement before he threw both arms around Bucky’s waist and pulled him closer until he was sitting squarely on the blond man’s crotch. 

The kiss, which had seconds before been nothing more than dry lips pressing against each other, morphed into something wet and dirty as Bucky moaned at being manhandled. Their tongues slid together as Bucky fisted at Clint’s hair. 

Clint bucked under him and held him tighter, one hand sliding down his back until it brushed against his ass, giving it a firm squeeze that had Bucky rolling his hips against Clint’s burgeoning hardness.

Oxygen became an issue all too soon. Bucky tilted his head forward to press his forehead against Clint’s as they both sucked in much needed air. Clint’s breathing was as ragged as his own, chests bumping as they heaved in large breaths. 

Bucky released the grip he had on Clint’s hair, pushing himself back to sit on Clint’s thighs with both his hands pressed into the blond’s chest. In turn, Clint removed his hand from Bucky’s ass and settled it on Bucky’s hip whilst his other hand trailed up and cupped the side of Bucky’s face, his thumb stroking at his cheek. 

“You’re fucking Hawkeye,” Bucky stated after they had both managed to slow their breaths down to somewhere less than post-marathon rates. 

“I think you’ll find that’s your job,” Clint shot back with a grin that made Bucky’s stomach do somersaults.


	5. Chapter 5

"Agent Barton?" Bucky flinches, pulling his head back from Clint to dart his eyes around the room, looking for the British man who had spoken. 

Clint relaxes back against the couch and runs a hand down Bucky’s side. "It's just J.A.R.V.I.S he's Tony’s AI," he explains before tilting his head back and speaking as if J.A.R.V.I.S is in the ceiling. "Yeah, J. What's up?"

"My apologies for the interruption and for startling your guest sir. Agent Romanoff asked me to pass along some information with regards to Mr Barnes' apartment." 

Bucky shifts his body back, settling his weight against Clint's thighs rather than against his crotch. "Er– thanks, that's– what information?"

"Agent Romanoff wanted me to let you know that the building is not safe for habitation at this time. However, it does appear that the structural damage is minimal and will be able to be repaired. Rough estimates for the building to be suitable for habitation are between two and four months. The third and fourth floor of the building are the least structurally sound; however, there is minimal fire damage to any belongings within Mr Barnes' apartment." 

Clint turns his attention from the ceiling to look at Bucky with a smile. 

The British voice continues to speak. "A team is currently being put together to enter the building to pack and remove personal effects for the residents. Sir has arranged for all of Mr Barnes' belongings to be brought to the tower, they should arrive in the morning. Agent Romanoff has asked if there are any items that should be specifically looked out for." 

Bucky nods his head. "My laptop should be on the coffee table by the couch, my phone was by the bed. There's a box on the shelf in my closet that has all my paperwork and stuff that I need, and I think my wallet was on my bedside table." Bucky stops talking to think for a couple of seconds. "I think that's about it, except for like clothes, the rest is just stuff– it doesn't really matter." 

"I will pass this on to Agent Romanoff and let you know when your belongings arrive at the tower, Mr Barnes." 

"Thank you." 

Clint trails a hand from Bucky’s knee up along his thigh. "You okay?"

"Honestly?" Bucky asks, shifting to the side and off of Clint’s lap so he can sit beside him on the couch. "I don't know," he admits quietly. "Today has been really fucked up."

Clint snorts an amused breath out his nose. "Yeah, that was not exactly the way I envisioned us actually meeting for the first time." 

Neither spoke for a while. Bucky was lost in thoughts of having to call the insurance company in the morning and wondering if they would give him enough money for a hotel until his apartment was fixed, or if he should just start looking for somewhere new to live immediately. They had to give him back his deposits, right? 

Bucky broke out of his thoughts as Clint shifted beside him, the blond man curling in on himself as he pulled one knee to his chest, almost seeming to be creating a barrier between himself and Bucky. 

"I–" Clint looked to be steeling himself against his next words, resolutely keeping his head forwards and not towards Bucky. "–I'm sorry." Bucky offered him a confused look that Clint didn't see, still turned away. "I didn't want to lie to you, but by the time I figured I really liked you and wanted to tell you who I was, it seemed too late. Like I was in too deep to just– to just, say it or whatever." 

Bucky turned his whole body, bringing one bent leg up onto the couch so he could get closer to Clint. He reached a hand out and cupped it around Clint’s shin. 

Clint didn't flinch at the touch but he did look down at the contact, eyebrows pulled together and confusion on his face. 

"I figured that when we met next week you'd see me and know, or I'd tell you in person so I could try and explain." Clint snorted an amused breath. "Still working on the explanation though–"

Bucky tightened his grip, squeezing Clint’s leg. "I don't need one." Clint finally turned his head, whiplash fast to give Bucky a questioning look. "I get it. You're Hawkeye. I get maybe not wanting to tell someone you just met, getting to just be Clint and not having to worry that maybe I would only be in it for bragging rights or to sell a story or whatever it is those kind of assholes do." 

"How are you so perfect?" Clint's question was almost whispered, his eyes darting around Bucky’s face. 

Bucky shook his head gently. "M'not. I just–" Bucky sighed, he hated talking about his fucked up past but it was probably the only way for him to explain. "Look, some shit happened when I was a kid and it kind of exploded all over the media and there were all these people and my dad getting me to do interviews and photoshoots and loads of fucked up stuff. Some people felt sorry for me and treated me like I was gonna break all the time, others wanted a free ride off the money we made, some just wanted to be able to say they knew me. None of them did, they just wanted something from me, even if it was to feel better about themselves by thinking they were helping." 

"You don't have to tell me, if you don't want to," Clint offered, obviously noticing how uncomfortable Bucky was with what he was revealing. 

Bucky smiled a little, a small lifting at the corners of his mouth. "You weren't the only one not laying all their cards on the table, that's all I'm saying." 

Clint nodded at him, finally releasing the grip he had on his own leg and extending it again so his foot rested on the floor. "Well, now that we've both thoroughly killed the mood–" Clints grin was full of relief. "–y'hungry?" 

"I could eat."

*********

'I could eat' translated to the two men demolishing an extra large pizza, three sides and a six pack of some weird micro brew that Tony had stocked Clint’s fridge with. 

Conversation was easy. Laughter punctuated the air often as Clint told stories of the circus and funnily botched missions and Bucky talked of dorm shenanigans, pranks and drunken nights of dumb students pretending they were adults. 

It was so easy. 

"You want to use the shower?" Clint asked as he straightened up from ramming the empty pizza box into the trash in the kitchen. 

Bucky pushed himself up from the couch and took the few steps needed to the kitchen. "Alone or–?" 

Clint felt his heart thump a little harder on the next beat at the look on Bucky's face. His face was relaxed, lips slightly parted and his eyes dark with heat. "Not alone is always an option–." Clint trailed off as Bucky smirked at him. 

Clint stood stock still as Bucky peeled off his shirt, scrunched it into a loose ball and threw it at Clint who caught it as it hit his chest. Without a word Bucky turned and started a slow walk to the bathroom, his hands popping the button of his jeans before pulling down the zipper as he went. 

Clint's brain felt like it had been short circuiting and he wasn't sure how long he had stood there looking towards where Bucky had gone. He dropped Bucky's shirt to the counter and half jogged towards the bathroom, skipping over Bucky's jeans that were in a pile by the half open door. 

Bucky already had the shower running and was under the spray when Clint entered the room. Clint grinned at the sight of Bucky’s boxers draped over the towel rack before stripping out of all of his clothes in a hurried rush. 

The door to the shower barely made a noise as Clint opened it to slip inside. Bucky was facing the wall, hands in his hair as he worked the water through his locks. 

"Look at you," Clint said, leaning his shoulder against the glass side of the shower and tracing his eyes along Bucky's naked back. 

Bucky pushed his hair out of his face with one arm and turned at the waist to look at Clint. "Mmm, you like looking at me," he shot back. 

Clint pushed off from the shower wall and took the one step forward he needed to plaster himself to Bucky's back, arms snaking around his middle. "Intend to do a whole lot more than look," Clint mumbled against Bucky's shoulder before pressing his lips to the wet skin. 

"Yeah?" Bucky asked. "You have plans?" 

Clint mouthed at the side of Bucky’s neck, teeth grazing his throat when Bucky let out a low moan and relaxed back against Clint. "Had plans for months, Sunshine."

Bucky ground his hips back into Clint’s hardening cock. "You gonna let me in on these plans or–?"

Clint groaned, slipping his hands to Bucky’s hips to hold him still as he rolled his pelvis. The slick slide of his dick against Bucky's ass made him inhale sharply. "Think this is more of a practical demonstration rather than a lecture." 

Bucky placed his hands over Clint’s on his hips for a moment, squeezing gently before turning his body so they could face each other. "Does this practical demonstration allow for subject participation?" 

Clint grinned down at Bucky, trailing one hand up the dark haired man's body until it settled on the side of his neck. "Participation is mandatory," Clint muttered against Bucky's lips before using his hand to tilt Bucky’s head so they could press their mouths together in a slow kiss. 

Clint had known that Bucky was full of delicious noises from their phenomenal phone sex, but he hadn't been sure if that would translate when they got to be together in person. Clint couldn't help but smirk into the kiss as Bucky proved it wasn't just a phone thing. 

They kept the pace slow. Lips sliding together, sharp breaths against each other’s face whenever they pulled back for a second. Bucky was the first to initiate deepening the kiss, his warm tongue teasing at the seam of Clint’s mouth before pulling back into his own. 

Clint dared him with his own tongue, never giving more than Bucky had offered. Kitten licks to Bucky’s bottom lip, small nips at his cupid's bow, suction on his bottom lip to pull it between Clint’s lips before releasing it again. 

"Clint–" Bucky moaned, then darted his tongue out to lick his own bottom lip after Clint released it. 

Clint tilted his head down, pressing their foreheads together. "Something you need Sunshine?" 

"Wash my hair." 

Clint’s laugh sounded almost like a bark, echoing off the tiles and glass of the shower. He didn't answer Bucky with words, instead he took a step away from the other man and reached out to grab the shampoo. 

**********

The rest of the shower was almost mechanical, Clint washed Bucky’s hair with gentle hands, running his fingers through it carefully to ease out any knots. Once he was done Bucky turned Clint and repeated the process for him. 

They washed each other’s bodies with their hands rather than use the washcloth or loofah that were hanging from a hook on the wall. They didn't tease or linger; Bucky didn't think he could have handled it if they had. He _needed_ to be in Clint’s bed. Now. 

Clint scrubbed a towel through his hair then down his arms. He ran it down his torso and along his legs quickly as if 'not dripping' was dry enough for him. 

Bucky took a little longer, his hair required much more squeezing out and rubbing than Clint’s shorter hair. 

He laughed as Clint came at him with a second towel, patting down his torso. "Someone's impatient," Bucky teased. 

"If you don't hurry up I'm going to throw you over my shoulder so I can take you to bed." 

Bucky inhaled sharply at Clint's words. "You say that like it'd make me move faster." 

Suddenly he was upside down, his stomach pressed into Clint's shoulder as he hung down his back. "Holy shit." 

"What? Did you think I was joking? I was not joking. I don't joke about important things." 

Bucky laughed against Clint's back as they entered the bedroom. All Bucky could see was a pale colored carpet, then he was suddenly thrown onto the bed, bouncing once against the soft blankets and firm mattress. "Oh my god!" 

Clint’s smile was full of dirty promises as he climbed onto the bed in his hands and knees. He crawled towards Bucky, throwing a leg over Bucky's hips to straddle him once he was level with Bucky. "Fuck, you're gorgeous," Clint said looking down at Bucky. 

"Says you," Bucky shot back as he grabbed the back of Clint's head to pull him down for a kiss that was much rougher and dirtier than they had shared in the shower. 

Clint rolled his hips down against Bucky, their cocks sliding against each other on Bucky's stomach. "You feel amazing," Clint whispered against Bucky's neck before kissing at the skin there. 

Bucky writhed beneath Clint as the blond man mouthed and sucked around the side of his neck to his throat. "I want you to fuck me," Bucky moaned as Clint sucked what would probably be an impressive hickey into his skin. 

Clint pulled away with a wet pop, nosing along Bucky's jaw before meeting his lips again. "Your wish is my command, Sunshine." With one last lingering kiss, Clint pulled back and off of Bucky so he could reach the bedside table. 

**********

"C'mon Clint, please–" Bucky hitched out. Clint had yet to touch him with his hands, instead he had been kissing and sucking at Bucky's thighs for much longer than it took for the lube on his hand to warm up. 

Clint pushed himself up with one hand next to Bucky's chest, using his knee to spread Bucky's legs further apart from his position between them. 

"You look so good spread out under me," Clint said, finally bringing his slicked fingers to Bucky's hole to apply gentle pressure. 

"Fuck–" Bucky moaned the word before continuing. "I'd look better stretched out on your fingers."

Evidently, Clint agreed and in response sunk his pointer finger past the tight ring of muscle and released a satisfied sound. 

Bucky lifted his knees, placing his feet flat on the bed so he could roll his hips against Clint’s hand. "More."

Clint lent further forwards, balancing most of his weight on the arm next to Bucky. In contrast to his body's movement, he pulled his finger out of Bucky and rubbed at his rim with the fingertips of two fingers. "Kiss me," Clint demanded quietly.

Bucky lifted his neck from the pillow to meet Clint’s lips, breaking off the kiss prematurely to moan when Clint sank two fingers into him. 

"You're so tight, gonna feel amazing wrapped around my cock," Clint said as he started to scissor his fingers. 

Bucky didn't say anything past the frankly pornographic sounds he made, a hand fisted in Clint’s hair to hold him as Bucky attacked his mouth with frantic kisses full of tongue. 

"More."

Clint chuckled against Bucky's mouth. "Greedy." 

Bucky circled his hips against Clint’s hand, grinding down. "Please, Clint. C'mon. Need you." 

That was what did it. Two little words that cut through everything inside Clint. Pushing away the urge to tease the man beneath him, Clint added a third finger to stretch Bucky enough so he could bury himself inside without hurting him. 

"You ready?" Clint asked, pulling his fingers free and reaching for a condom with his clean hand. He wiped the hand that had been inside Bucky on the sheet next to him, it would need washing later anyway. 

Bucky nodded quickly, pushing himself up into a sitting position as he watched Clint roll the condom on over his straining cock. "Lie down, I wanna ride you." 

Clint couldn't hold back the wrecked noise at Bucky’s words. "Fuck, yes." With little grace, Clint settled himself against the sheets, propping his shoulders up with pillows so he could watch Bucky at a better angle. 

Bucky snatched up the lube, pouring a generous amount into his hand and getting to his knees. Kneeling next to Clint, he wrapped his lube covered fingers around Clint and gave him two sharp pulls before throwing his leg over Clint’s body. 

Clint’s hands seemed to move of their own accord, running over Bucky's stomach and chest with firm pressure as Bucky took Clint in his hand and shifted backwards until the head of Clint’s cock was pressed against his hole. 

Clint bit his lower lip and forced his eyes to stay open and focused on Bucky’s face as the dark haired man sank down on him in one long, slow glide. 

_Hot. Tight. Perfect._

"You feel so fucking good," Bucky ground out as he twitched his hips. 

Clint couldn't control the way his own hips thrust up from Bucky’s words. "Jesus fuck, you–" Clint didn't finish wherever that train of though was going because that was when Bucky decided to move. 

Bucky's hands were on Clint’s chest, fingers slightly curled into his muscles as he lifted himself a few inches then rocked back down. Clint's hands flew to Bucky’s hips, thumbs swiping against the bone as Bucky rocked. 

"That's it," Clint said, his voice an octave or so deeper than usual. "Take what you need Sunshine." 

Bucky pushed against Clint’s chest, arching his back and throwing his head back as he sped up his movements. Clint slid his hands further around, digging his fingers into the meat of Bucky’s ass cheeks to encourage him to grind his hips in a circle as he bottomed out. 

"Shit– Clint–" Bucky shifted his knees further apart and leant forwards to capture Clint's mouth in a kiss, the frantic moments slowing to a more sedate pace that both didn't feel enough and was everything Clint had ever wanted at the same time. 

*********

Bucky’s world flipped for the second time that night and he found himself on his back, Clint caging him in with his ridiculous biceps either side of Bucky’s face. 

Clint had slipped out of him when he had manhandled Bucky over but it only lasted a second before Clint moved back in. Clint lifted Bucky’s leg, draping his knee over Clint’s shoulder as the blond man took himself in hand and guided his cock back inside. 

Bucky moaned loud and long, his free leg coming up to wrap around Clint's waist as the archer started fucking him in earnest. 

Time melted away. It could have been seconds or hours that Bucky writhed beneath Clint, his ass arching off the bed along with Clint’s thrusts. 

"M'close. Clint–" Bucky breathed out as Clint nailed his prostate again and again like it was one of his archery targets. "Gonna come–"

Bucky practically sobbed as Clint wrapped his hand around Bucky’s cock, jerking him in time with the thrusting of his hips. "Come for me Sunshine. Want to feel you milking me until I got nothin' left." 

Who was Bucky to deny a command like that? 

With a shout, Bucky arched his whole body as the numb feeling that had started in his toes suddenly exploded into waves of molten hot pleasure. He felt himself tighten around Clint, the muscles spasming around Clint’s cock as Bucky shot a pulsating stream of come across his own stomach and chest. 

Clint seemed to stop breathing above Bucky, slamming his hips harder into Bucky before stuttering to an almost stop. As Bucky once again became aware of his surroundings, he felt Clint gently thrusting into him and the twitching of Clint’s cock still inside of him. 

Clint released Bucky’s spent dick when Bucky made an unhappy sound of overstimulation. Reaching up, Clint slid Bucky’s knee from his shoulder and made to move backwards. Bucky let his leg fall to Clint’s waist but tightened the hold of both legs around him so he couldn't pull out. 

Clint groaned and let himself fall forwards onto his outstretched arms so he could hover his face over Bucky's. "You gotta let me go Sunshine."

Bucky shook his head. Words were still not quite forming properly after the mindblowing orgasm Clint had drawn out of him. "No."

Clint chuckled, brushing his nose against Bucky's cheek then pressing a kiss to his jaw. "If you let me go I'll get you chocolate." 

Bucky met Clint's eyes with furrowed brows. "Cheater."

Clint grinned down at him, laying one last loud kiss on Bucky's lips before pushing himself back on his knees. Bucky let his legs slip from around Clint’s waist and inhaled sharply when Clint slipped out of him. 

Bucky watched fascinated as Clint practically leapt from the bed to dispose of the condom and skip-walked to the bathroom where Bucky heard the faucet turn on then off quickly. Clint bounded back over the bed, trailing a damp, warm washcloth up Bucky’s thighs and between his legs then over his stomach and chest to clean him up before throwing it –without looking– into the hamper by the dresser. 

"What the fuck–?" Bucky asked at Clint's smiling face. "Why am I the only one about to pass out after the amazing sex?" 

Clint walked backwards towards the door speaking as he went. "Gimme ten minutes and I'll be fast asleep and drooling all over your chest, but right now I'm riding the high of the best orgasm I've ever experienced." 

Bucky bit his lip and carried on watching the empty doorway after Clint had disappeared through it. 

It would be so easy to fall for Clint, and Bucky wasn't entirely sure that he wasn't already more than halfway there already. 

_Well shit._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please go check out my amazing artist HeyBoy on [AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeyBoy/pseuds/HeyBoy) and [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/heyboydraws) . The full art work that was done for this is[ here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28430397)
> 
> Comments are appreciated!
> 
> Thank you for reading :D


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